The second half of November rushed by in a whirl of lessons, homework and Quidditch matches. Harry helped Gryffindor to a comfortable win over Ravenclaw, while Slytherin flattened Hufflepuff in the next match, much to the despair of their much vaunted new Seeker, a Fifth Year boy called Cedric Diggory, the very mention of whom seemed to cause most of the girls in the vicinity to giggle coquettishly. Harry thought this was all very silly, so seeing Diggory disgruntled after getting a hammering on the Quidditch pitch cheered him up at a stroke.

For Harry was not in the best of moods and he just couldn't seem to shake it. Nor could he understand it, as it all seemed to stem from Hermione's return to Hogwarts. This was supposed to be a good thing, Harry had been quite desolate without his best friend after all, but now things had become unaccountably weird between them.

Because the easy air they used to enjoy while spending time together had been replaced by something altogether more taut and awkward. They kept apologising for the accidental physical contacts that they were always so comfortable with before ... such as when they bumped hands or found their forearms resting against each other while writing in class ... and they had taken to sitting opposite each other at meal times, rather than side-by-side as they had been for the last couple of years. It was a strange, unspoken covenant they had entered into to allow these changes, but Harry wasn't sure he liked them at all.

What bothered him even more was the behaviour of Marici and Papageno when they were together. If they weren't pouncing all over one another they were locked in intimate grooming sessions, nibbling matted bits of fur or licking clean that unreachable spot behind the ear. Harry didn't mind the tickly sensations that this illicit contact between the dæmons caused to explode in him, but this was tempered with a very different feeling too.

If Harry didn't know better, he'd have thought that it was jealousy ... as if the awkward social distancing that had arisen between himself and Hermione was made all the more acute by the intimacy enjoyed by their dæmons.

And he couldn't talk about it with Marici, either. This was weird in itself, as it was the first time Harry had come across a topic that he was afraid to broach with his dæmon. His inexperience in understanding how the connection between them worked robbed Harry of the knowledge that Marici knew what was on his mind ... as it was her mind, too ... and could have answered all his questions.

But as it was, she could also feel his reticence, so was forced to wait until he felt ready to talk to her, much as Hermione did. Forcing it would undermine the innate trust between human and dæmon, one that, if lost, could never be recovered.

Harry's mood took a further nosedive with the announcement in early December that there would be a Hogsmeade weekend visit on the last few days of term. All the students were excited about this, Hermione in particular.

"Ooh, Harry! That's great timing!" she sang. "You can finally show me around and then we can do our Christmas shopping there!"

And then she remembered as Harry gave her a pointed look.

"But, oh, I'm not allowed to go, am I?" Hermione said in a sad little voice. "Because Mum ... I mean, Lyra ... made Professor McGonagall promise to keep me here."

"I didn't want to be the one who reminded you," Harry replied, bracingly. "I know how much you were looking forward to going. But yeah, you aren't allowed."

"Well, that's really quite unfair," Hermione huffed. "I'm going to have to write to Lyra, make her change her mind."

Just then, Neville stomped across the Common Room and flung himself down into a chair opposite Harry and Hermione, who were sat at each end of the battered couch in front of the fire.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Harry asked in response to Neville's sulky frown.

"The Music Society have just announced they are going to tie-in our Christmas party to the Hogsmeade weekend," Neville explained. "Which means I can't go. I am not amused."

"Why can't you go?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "You aren't banned from visiting the village, are you?"

Neville gulped hard and his skin turned pale and clammy. "No ... but all the exits are guarded by those things. I can't get within thirty feet of them without feeling their effects. It's bad enough walking around the grounds to get to classes, but I have to do that ... though I'd rather not hear my tortured parents screaming in my head, just to go and play the lyre for the Society. So I'll just have to stay here."

"Have you not made much progress with Professor Lupin then?" Hermione asked, looking over in kindly concern.

"A bit, but still only with a Boggart," Neville confessed. "I don't think I've got the guts to face a real Dementor yet."

"Well, I'll be staying as well," Harry chipped in. "It might not be so bad."

But Neville and Hermione didn't seem to agree that Harry's company was a suitable consolation prize for being denied access to the magical village. Hermione soon became morose that she, too, wouldn't be able to attend the Music Society event. Harry didn't want to think that it was anything to do with Michael Corner being there, and the sticky nature of the subject kept the voicing of it away from his lips ... he just hoped Hermione would keep hers away from the Ravenclaw lothario, too.

Things didn't improve when Lyra point-blank refused to budge, following Hermione's entreaty to her to be released from her imprisonment. This made Hermione yet more cross and irritable to the point where Harry, after being snapped at for offering to help with more of an increasingly-tired Hermione's remedial Pensieve homework, decided that this scolding was enough to take matters into his own hands.

So he slipped out of the Common Room one evening, leaving Hermione to mutter furiously to herself, and made his way along the corridor. He vaulted the steps of the tower at the far end and knocked three times on the heavy oak door. It opened with a creak and a stern face met his in the crack.

"Ah, Harry, I was wondering when you'd be visiting me. If we're going to row, you'd better come in. We don't want to wake the castle."

"What makes you think we are going to row, Aunt Min?" Harry quirked as he entered the room and sat down.

"You've come to ask me about Hermione and the Hogsmeade weekend," Professor McGonagall replied intuitively. "And you know what my answer has to be, Harry."

"How do you know I was going to ask that?" Harry queried. "Sometimes I'm sure you can read minds."

"As much as I'd like to claim clairvoyance in this matter, I owe the knowledge of it to another," Professor McGonagall confessed. "An owl named Pantalaimon arrived a short while ago to tell me of Hermione's request to Lyra. A request I know she refused."

Harry rubbed his chin in thought. "Pan came here? Lyra really did want to cover her bases."

"As should you," Professor McGonagall told Harry, looking at him sternly over the rim of her glasses. "You know the danger out there. I wouldn't have thought you'd be appealing to me to put your closest friend into harm's way."

"I'm not," Harry protested half-heartedly. "Well, maybe I am. A bit. But she's so upset, Aunt Min. She was so looking forward to going. Isn't there any way around it?"

"No, none at all."

"How about if she had a chaperone? I could go, or Hagrid, maybe? She'd be safe with him."

"It is Hagrid's weekend off, too," Professor McGonagall pointed out. "And besides, you are forgetting a fundamental fact ... Hermione's legal guardian has revoked her permission to visit the village."

"Lyra isn't Hermione's legal guardian," Harry sniped.

"Don't be petulant, it doesn't suit you," Professor McGonagall reprimanded. "She's the closest thing to it in this world, as you well know. If you want to go by the book I could do that too ... and say that, as Hermione's actual parents haven't signed the permission slip, she will never visit the village."

Harry gasped aloud. "You wouldn't!"

"I would. Believe me, with the safety of a student at stake, I most definitely would."

"But that's just cruel! You wont do that, will you? Please don't, Hermione would be ever so upset."

"I wont, so long as you let this matter drop now," Professor McGonagall replied. "Under normal circumstances there wouldn't be an issue. But right now, things are not normal."

"Does that mean I cant go, either?" Harry asked. "Do I have to stay?"

"Your parents haven't requested that you be denied access to Hogsmeade. Though I would advise you to think better of it. Besides, Miss Granger will likely be glad of the company."

"I'll just have to make the best of it then," Harry grinned. "I just had to try the alternative."

"I'd have been disappointed in you if you didn't!" Professor McGonagall smiled. "Now, you are almost out of bed after curfew. Don't make me take points from you for misplaced noble intentions!"

Harry laughed as he stood up. "Goodnight, Aunt Min."

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Well, that didn't go at all to plan," Harry thought grumpily as he plodded back towards the Gryffindor Common Room. He was disappointed in himself, as though he could have tried harder. He wouldn't be able to cheer Hermione up with the good news he'd been hoping to wring out of his former legal guardian, but instead his protests had died with barely a whimper. Maybe he'd go back and try again.

But then ...

"Oof! Watch where you're ... oh, evening, Harry. Out for an evening stroll?"

"Fred! What's the hold up? Is the coast clear? Oh, hello, Harry ... out for an evening stroll, are we?"

Harry narrowed his eyes as the second Weasley twin emerged from the spiral staircase and into the flickering light cast by the single candle held high in a rough metal bracket above the Portrait Hole. Fred Weasley was bent down gathering up a number of glittering objects from the floor.

"What have you been doing? And what are those?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Oh, these? Nothing at all," Fred replied, hastily stuffing the brightly-coloured nothings back into his robe pockets.

"Are they sweets?" Harry pressed. "They are! I recognise the wrappers now! You got them from Honeydukes."

"We did not!" George laughed theatrically. "How could we?"

"The shop is closed," Fred added.

"And the village is all that way away."

"And it's night and past curfew."

"And we'd never be out of bed doing something unsavoury, now would we, Fred?"

"Absolutely not," Fred nodded. "Model students, we are."

Harry narrowed his eyes and tried not to smirk at them. "What have you been up to?"

"We can't tell you that, Harry," Fred grinned back, recognising a kindred spirit in Harry and relaxing.

"Yes, even though you strike us as a fellow mischief maker, some secrets must remain our own," George nodded piously.

"You've got sweets from Honeydukes!" Harry persevered, pointing at the twin's bulging pockets. "Now there are two logical explanations for this ... either you have a secret stash somewhere on the grounds that you have to keep from prying eyes, or you have a way to break-in to Honeydukes to pilfer their stock!"

"Would you believe the first one?" Fred tried cheekily.

"No!" Harry chortled. "But I don't like to think of you as thieves, either."

"Think of it as quality control then," George grinned.

"Or free marketing," Fred quipped. "We are simply offering free samples to drive trade later on. It's a classic technique."

"Perhaps, but one the owners of Honeydukes know nothing about!" Harry chuckled.

"Hey, it's for a good cause," said George.

"Yes, one close to your heart," Fred added with a wink.

"My heart?" asked Harry. "How?"

"We, like most of Gryffindor, are quite sick of seeing Messrs Longbottom and Granger looking so miserable all the time," George began.

"Yes, it really is ruining the ambiance of the Common Room," Fred agreed sniffily. "We can barely concentrate on our plans for chaos with those two looking so morose."

"So we thought a few treats might cheer them up," George went on, gesturing to his pockets. "We thought you might approve of something that would put a smile back on Hermione's pretty little face."

A protective prickle rose in Harry's chest at that, for while he certainly wouldn't be against anything that would make Hermione smile, he found that he didn't like the idea of George finding his best friend pretty. He wanted to tell him so, but he had suddenly come to a stunning realisation, one that might cause him to put a smile on Hermione's face after all.

"It's a nice gesture, but you still shouldn't be stealing," Harry told them, trying to stay calm so he could worm this information he wanted from the twins. He had to rein in his excitement and play the moral student for a few minutes longer. "I should tell Professor McGonagall, really. I've just been to see her, so I know she's still awake."

"How do you feel about bribes, Harry?" asked Fred reaching into his pocket for a handful of sweets.

"Yes," George jumped in. "How many Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs will buy your silence?"

"None, you stole them for Hermione and Neville, so they should have them," Harry replied. "But I do have a price of my own."

"Name it," said George.

"Well, I can only assume that, to reach Hogsmeade, you must know of a secret passage out of the castle," Harry went on shrewdly. "By the looks of it, one that runs right into the cellars of Honeydukes. Tell me where the entrance is at this end and I might be persuaded to look the other way."

Fred and George swapped mischievous grins.

"That's an evil request, Harry," said Fred.

"Yes, a truly despotic blackmail," George nodded. Then he looked at Fred. "But we agree to your terms, so long as you continue to use the passage to break rules. It's a time-honoured tradition."

"Oh, my plans are very much to break rules," Harry smirked. "So, where is the entrance?"

Fred took a dramatic sigh. "On the Third Floor corridor, about half way down -"

" - past the trapdoor that you went through to get the Philosopher's Stone -"

"- there's a statue of a one-eyed hag. The tunnel entrance is hidden behind it -"

"- and to get in you just tap the statue with your wand -"

"- and say Dissendium -"

"- and say Dissendium. Then you're in. It automatically closes behind you. But it's the same spell to get out when you return to the castle."

"Dissendium," Harry repeated. "Anything else I need to know?"

"No, just be careful when you come in or out of the tunnel at either end. That corridor is quite busy, as is Honeydukes, and we don't want everyone knowing about our little secret, do we?"

"Oh, don't worry about that!" Harry whispered conspiratorily. "I have my own ways of being unseen ..."

"I'm not sure about this, Harry," Hermione fretted as they walked briskly along.

"Neither am I, Harry," Marici admonished from in Harry's jacket pocket. "This is so reckless."

"She has a point," Hermione hushed. "The risk out there is very real. Lyra and Professor McGonagall are only doing what they think is right."

Harry skidded to a halt and rounded on Hermione in the corridor. "Look, you're the one who's been moping about for days because you can't go to this Music thing, and now that I'm taking you there you're changing your mind. I'm fine with staying here, avoiding the trouble I'll get in to if you're caught. So if you don't want to go, say so now."

"Don't listen to her, Harry, she's just a scaredy-cat," Neville teased from Hermione's other side. "She wants to go, really. But you know how she gets when it comes to breaking fifty school rules at once!"

Neville's impression was accurate, if a little cruel. Hermione simply scowled at him.

"All I'm saying is that there is a good chance this could get us killed, or even worse ... expelled," Hermione scythed. "I do want to go, but we need to be oh so careful."

"And we will be," Harry reassured her. "You're only going for an hour, anything else would run the risk of a teacher seeing you."

"And the Church of Merlin hall is quite secure," Neville added. "The place is spelled to stop the unscrupulous or downright unworthy entering the building in the first place."

"How are you going to get in then, Nev?" Harry teased.

"Very funny," Neville shot back. "Look, are we going or not?"

"Can we just go over the plan, one more time?" Hermione begged fretfully.

"Alright," Harry sighed. "We are going to use the secret passage to reach Honeydukes, then you and Neville can slip out under my Invisibility Cloak to attend the Music Society party. I'll potter around for a bit ... forgive the pun ... and if anyone asks why I'm not back at Hogwarts I'll just say I came to buy some sweets to cheer you both up.

"Then, at three o'clock, I'll come and collect you from the Church of Merlin. We'll head back to Honeydukes under my cloak, slip back into the school and be waiting for everyone as if you never left at all. Any questions?"

"Dozens, but I'll keep them to myself for now," Hermione frowned. "I just hope this doesn't go wrong."

"Have faith, it's Christmas," Harry grinned. "Time for good cheer. It'll all be fine."

"And if Bellatrix Lestrange turns up?"

"She'll have to deal with me and my lioness," Harry replied grittily, softly patting Marici in his pocket as she growled in agreement.

Hermione smiled weakly at that, offering no further protest as Harry led them along the corridor and stopped at the statue of the one-eyed witch. Checking both ways as if he were crossing a busy Muggle road, Harry whipped out his wand and rapped the statue on the head.

"Dissendium!" Harry muttered.

The statue glowed briefly, but then the stone robe of the witch swung back to reveal the dark, circular entrance to the tunnel.

"Get in, quick!" Harry implored. "Before anyone sees!"

Neville went first, Hermione close behind, before Harry crouched down and shuffled into the tunnel after them. He glided down a smooth, stone slide and landed ungainly next to Hermione, who was looking up at the pin-prick of light now left at the tunnel entrance. The cloak swung shut, throwing them all into utter darkness.

"Why is it that we always end up miles underground when we go through secret doorways?" Hermione mused absently. "You'd think we might have learned by now!"

"We should have brought a torch," Neville hushed in a trembly voice. "It's so dark in here."

"A torch? Are you wizards or not?" Hermione scoffed. "Lumos!"

A brilliant beam of light burst free from Hermione's wand, illuminating the twisty passage that stretched away from them. It sloped downwards at first, before curving back up in a steep incline. It was large enough for them to stand up in, so they gathered themselves together and set off.

The tunnel went on for ages. Harry and Neville agreed that it felt longer than the walk they'd made last time, but driven on by the promise of time in the village they hurried along nonetheless. Neville was pleased to have found a way around the Dementors, Harry was mentally memorising the route to add to his Marauders Map later, and even Hermione was starting to get excited for her first look at Hogsmeade proper.

Eventually they reached the end of the portal into the cellar was only just big enough for one of them to slip through at a time, clad as they were in thick coats and scarves to protect against the colder winter weather. It was hidden behind a stack of old crates, so after carefully replacing these Harry led the trio through into the main cellar.

Numerous shelves filled this place with innumerable boxes of sweets and treats weighing them down. Harry licked his lips at the prospect of them weighing his pockets down later, but then pulled Hermione back as footsteps sounded ahead of them.

"Grab some Pepper Imps and another crate of Cockroach Cluster," a woman was calling down a shallow flight of steps. "They've nearly cleaned us out already!"

A second shop assistant was busy moving around amongst the shelves. Harry had flung his hand over Hermione's mouth on instinct, but now all he could focus on was the curious tickly sensation of her warm breath against his fingers and her slightly moist lips against his palm. She looked at him with a sweet blink, her eyes roaming his face for something.

Then Harry pulled his hand away sharply as if he'd been caught doing wrong. It was a good thing too, as he'd almost found himself enjoying those bizarre tingles.

"Right, she's gone," Harry whispered as they heard the shop assistant climb the stairs. "Let's get under my Cloak."

So he took out the garment that had once been his father's and threw it over the three of them. Luckily it covered them from head to toe and Harry was convinced that it must have had some sort of enlargement spell woven in to make the wearers completely invisible. He chuckled in appreciation at his father's foresight then awkwardly guided the others up the stairs, through the crowded shop and into the chilly air of the village.

"Oh wow," Hermione whispered in Harry's ear, her hot breath flooding his belly with more of those silly butterflies. "It really is picture-postcard pretty, isn't it, with the snow and everything? I wish we had more time to see it properly. Bloody Bella Lestrange. I'm going to give her such a telling off if I ever meet her!"

"That's the spirit," Harry grinned. "But we'll have plenty of opportunity to explore it in the future. Right, the Church of Merlin is just at the end of the street. We'll dive down this alley and I'll come out from under the Cloak. Then you go off to your party. Just ... please be careful. This Cloak is hugely expensive."

"I'll take good care of it, Harry, I swear," Hermione promised. "But what will you do?"

"I'd better head back to Honeydukes, buy some sweets just in case I need to justify my ruse," Harry replied. "Don't worry about me. You two have a good time and I'll see you at three."

"Okay ... thanks, Harry," Hermione mumbled in a flustered voice, before she awkwardly bumped her cheek against Harry's. It wasn't much of a thank you kiss, but Harry felt the contact shoot all along his body to his toes, and even into Marici, too. He could tell that from the way her claws suddenly pricked into his chest muscles.

"Right ... go. You'll be late. See you at three."

Then Harry slid out from under the Cloak. He felt the air move as Hermione and Neville shuffled past him, then he was left quite alone.

His first stop was back at Honeydukes, where he bought an oversized bag of mixed sweets that would do nicely for his cover, as well as giving him something to nibble on as he ambled around for the next few hours on his own. He wasn't really on his own, of course, not with his dæmon stowed cosily in his pocket, but he had to be careful when he spoke to her, as he didn't want to be caught looking like he was talking to himself and everyone thinking he'd gone mental.

They visited the play park and the small petting zoo, feeding a Niffler and wondering just how many shiny trinkets it could hide in its gut. Then they took a look in the window of the Quidditch shop, admiring a new broom that was for sale in the window.

"The Firebolt," Harry read. "The fastest broom ever made, according to Which Broomstick? All the latest in tail-twig design and shape, to maximise torque and aerodynamics. Price on request. What does that mean, Chi ... price on request?"

"It means the broom is very expensive and they don't want to put buyers off by advertising it," a shy voice replied from behind. "Who's Chi?

Harry spun on the spot. "Oh, Sally-Anne, hi," Harry began breathlessly. "You startled me."

"I can see that," Sally smiled cheekily. "Who's this 'Chi', then? I can't see anyone else."

"Oh, it's ... er ... me," Harry invented. "It's my own energy. My Chi. Like in Asian mysticism. Sometimes I talk to it, you know. Not always out loud, but sometimes I forget that I'm not on my own."

"You're a funny boy, Harry Potter," Sally-Anne grinned. "Look, I've been meaning to talk to you ..."

"You have? Great!" Harry chimed. "I sort of thought you had started to ignore me."

"I had," Sally replied, guiltily.

"Oh. Can I ask why? Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh no, Harry, it wasn't you ... not at all. Please don't think that," Sally-Anne implored, grabbing Harry's forearm in both her hands and urging him to understand. "Oh ... I feel terrible now. This is all my fault."

"What is? I don't get it."

Sally-Anne stepped in close. "I like you, Harry, I really do. And I mean ... really like you. But when I saw what happened on Halloween with that crazy witch I realised what being with you meant. I was so scared for you I couldn't sleep or eat for days.

"And that's when I realised ... I just couldn't do it. As much as I want to be, I'm not the girl for you."

Harry felt as if his heart had got a puncture. "What does that even mean?"

"It means that I can't be in a situation where I'm going out of my mind with worry about you all the time," Sally went on. "But that's just who you are, it isn't your fault. You're just a bit dramatic and there's a huge pull in that, but seeing it up close I realised I couldn't bear to watch you get hurt all the time. I'm sorry, it's me being selfish and cowardly ... but that's how I feel. If things were different ..."

"But they're not," said Harry, kindly. He actually felt alright with the explanation, as though it had lifted a worry from his mind, too. "Listen, Sal, I'd have gone out with you if you'd asked. You're great and I've enjoyed spending time with you lately. But I am who I am ... and it's okay if you want to stay at arm's length from that. Most people would."

"Hermione Granger doesn't'," Sally-Anne pointed out, sadly.

That made Harry smile, inside and out. "Yes, well, Hermione is used to it by now. Not only that but, she's ... unique."

"Special, you mean?" Sally replied in a half-tease.

"Isn't that the same thing?" Harry queried. "Anyway, it's okay how you feel. But we can still be friends, can't we? Let me buy you a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, let you see what you're missing out on by having a generous boyfriend with a lot of Galleons in his wallet!"

"Don't tempt me, Harry, I might change my mind," Sally replied with a wink. "Oh, go on then. Friends will just have to do, wont it? Next time I'll just have to fall for someone a little more dull and boring."

"You can always try Ron Weasley," Harry suggested. "He only has his rat for company most days. Not much chance of drama there."

Sally-Anne scrunched her face up at that. "To be honest, if I had a choice between Ron and his rat, I'd probably choose the rat!"

"He's not that bad!" Harry laughed as they made their way up towards the pub. "He's not the sharpest tool in the box, or the most interesting conversationalist, but he's tolerable."

"Who, Ron ... or the rat!"

Harry and Sally continued the debate until they entered the busy pub and headed for the area sectioned off from the main bar, for sole use by the Hogwarts students. Harry ordered a round of Butterbeers and Sally nabbed them a booth just as a couple of Sixth Year Ravenclaws vacated it.

"Good grab!" Harry nodded appreciatively as he slid in besides Sally and passed her a foaming tankard.

"Butterbeer is so good!" Sally swooned as she took a deep draught, leaving her with a comical foam moustache that had Harry in stitches, until she noticed and rubbed it away as her cheeks coloured in embarrassment. "How do they make it so caramely?"

"Syrup? A Potion? Who knows," Harry pondered. "Let's not break the magic, eh? Just enjoy."

"Agreed!" Sally chimed, knocking her tankard against Harry's in a gesture of toast. "Oh, no! Teachers! They always dampen the mood."

Harry followed Sally's eyeline to where a cluster of Professors were crossing the bar. Professor Vector was there, along with Filius Flitwick. Next to him was Professor Abraham, the Alchemy Mistress, and next to her ...

"Oh, knackers!" Harry hissed. "What's my Mum doing here?"

"What's the problem?" Sally asked in concern. "You know she often helps out with the Alchemy lessons. Are you not supposed to be out, or something? Are you breaking the rules like a rebel? Naughty, naughty, Harry!"

Sally-Anne grinned at him in her teasing, but Harry was in no mood for humour.

"It's not so much that I'm not allowed here, but awkward questions will be asked," Harry explained somewhat cryptically. "I need to hide or something. I'm just going to dive under the table."

"As if that wont draw attention to you!" Sally exclaimed incredulously. "Look, I've got an idea. Slide over into the corner, quick!"

Harry did as he was told, then gasped in surprise as Sally flung her arms around him and pressed her face close to his.

"Sally! What are you doing!" Harry hissed.

"I'm pretending I'm snogging you!" Sally giggled. "My hair will hide your face from view for a minute. If you're uncomfortable with deceiving your Mum we could always do it for real!"

Harry gulped hard, more tempted than he knew he should be. Sally's face was hot next to his own, and she was very pretty close up. But his Mum might see and that wouldn't do at all, even if it was pretend.

"Nah, you're alright."

"Your loss," Sally shrugged playfully. "I'm quite a good kisser, you know. I was practising for ages with my pillow just in case I got a chance at the real thing!"

"I'm sure your next boyfriend will appreciate it! Are you sure I can't put in a good word for you with Ron?"

"Eww!" Sally hissed under her breath.

The teacher's party found a table just behind the booth where Harry and Sally were pretending to get amorous. Harry blushed deeply as he realised that people must have seen the pair of them before, which meant there would be gossip, but he had to get out of the pub unscathed by his mother's tongue before he could face any of that.

Luckily, the teachers and his mother had chosen a table facing the back of Harry and Sally's booth, which was deep-backed enough to hide their heads. But they were close enough to hear their conversation and Harry was soon startled by the content of it.

"So, Lily, any sign of Lestrange?" Professor Flitwick was asking. "I understand part of your being up here so often is to keep an eye out for her."

"As an Unspeakable, I cannot speak about my work, Filius," Lily replied firmly. "But let's just say I'm here to hunt a wolf ... or two."

Harry frowned at that ... what could it mean?

"Any idea how she might have gotten into the school?" asked Professor Abraham.

"I suspect one of the secret passages," Lily replied. "James and his friends once had a whole map of the school, one which even showed the location of all teachers and students. I always told him off for using it when we were at school, but it would be very handy to have it now."

"What happened to it?" asked Professor Flitwick.

"James cant remember, but he thinks Peter Pettigrew might have had it last. If that's true it was either lost or confiscated, but likely destroyed in either case. Sirius was made the Secret Keeper for the map, so even using ritual or memory spells on James or Remus wont bring back the secrets of how they made it."

"And Sirius is still abroad?" Professor Abraham queried.

Harry swallowed hard ... for this was the first time he would ever hear his mother intentionally tell a lie.

"Yes," said Lily in a calm voice. "We have asked him to chase up a lead for us. He'll be gone for some time."

"Pity," said Professor Vector. "But what I want to know is why Lestrange is even targeting the school at all."

"I can't tell you that, or even speculate," Lily told them. "Sorry."

"No need to be sorry, that's just the nature of your job," Professor Abraham replied supportively. "You might not be able to say, but I'd have to think it has something to do with the Longbottom boy."

Harry snapped his head to Sally, who looked just as confused as he.

"What makes you say that?" asked Professor Flitwick.

There was a pause, in which Harry could imagine Professor Abraham looking confused at her old friend. Indeed, it was she who spoke next.

"Do they not know, Lil?"

Another pause, then Lily answered. "It's not a story I have ever had cause to tell."

"If it's important, can you tell us now?" Flitwick enquired.

"I suppose that wouldn't hurt," Lily pondered a moment. "So, you all know that Lestrange tortured poor Neville Longbottom's parents, yes?"

There were murmured noises of confirmation, then Lily continued.

"Right, good. Well, what isn't so well known is that I was the first one to arrive as it was happening. Alice and Frank were already beyond my aid at that point, but little Neville was still whimpering in the corner. I found Bellatrix with her wand pointed at his baby head."

"Great Merlin!" Flitwick exclaimed. "She was going to kill him?"

"She certainly meant to, even though she claimed she was just trying to get him to stop crying," Lily went on. "Then, when I turned my back on her to try and treat Alice, something told me she'd turned her wand on me."

"What happened?" asked Professor Vector. Harry leant back to listen closer, too.

"We duelled," Lily explained. "She'd never liked me, Bella. She and Alice had been best friends once, but I took that role in Alice's life when we became close during our pregnancies. So I think Bella always had it in for me.

"Anyway, we duelled. I was superior, but her husband showed up to see why Bella had been delayed. I was in trouble then, but James and Sirius arrived and the fight got out of hand. Bella and her beau escaped, then she was caught later trying to kill non-Magicals in Piccadilly Circus."

"Non-Magicals?" Professor Vector queried. "Why not just call them Muggles like everyone else?"

Harry could almost feel his mother's scowl from here. "I've never liked the term Muggle. Sounds like muddled to me. And that sort of discrimination is all too rife in our society. It makes them sound lesser ... and nothing could be further from the truth. I came from a non-Magical background, my son's girlfriend is the same ... not to mention the most powerful young witch I've ever met. Origins are only important to those threatened by the differences in others."

Sally-Anne nudged Harry playfully, mimicking a halo over herself as Harry blushed from the echo of his mother's words. Both of them knew that Lily wasn't talking about Sally-Anne.

"I'm still confused as to how this connects to young Neville," Flitwick went on.

"Few people know this, but I intended to take Neville with us when we disappeared underground," Lily explained. "He and Harry were almost the same age ... we could have passed them off as non-identical twin brothers. That's what I told Bella I was going to do, anyway."

"Ah, I see," said Flitwick. "So as we can assume that Lestrange is working for the same authority behind the attempt to steal Flamel's Stone, and all that horror with Lockhart last year, it's reasonable to believe that she is after your Harry? To deliver him to these same evils?"

"We have to work to that theory," Lily confirmed. "And as they have targeted his girlfriend without success, they are now turning to the boy that Lestrange likely believes Harry views as a brother from another mother, as the phrase goes."

"Then it's very important to keep all three of them safe," Professor Vector weighed in. "You can rely on all the support of the teachers for that, Lily."

"Thank you. I'm just glad they are safe behind the walls of Hogwarts right now. I'd have a fit if I thought they were out and about and putting themselves in unnecessary danger."

Sally-Anne looked pointedly at Harry, moving closer before she whispered to him.

"They aren't, are they?"

Harry shook his head. "But I have to get them back. I've been so stupid. Help me?"

"Of course," said Sally-Anne, doughtily. "Crawl under the table and be ready to leave. I'll cause a diversion and you slip away in the confusion. Ready? Here I go."

Harry slipped under the table and crouched, ready to spirit himself away. Sally-Anne slid out of the booth and moved towards the loos. Harry could see her bide her time, then, as a waitress passed with a tray of empty tankards, she purposely fell into her, knocking the tankards onto the table where Lily and the teachers were sitting.

Cue uproar. Tables and chairs scraped violently against the flagstone floor, glasses smashed and students bounded up to take a look at the commotion. In the ensuing melee, Harry slipped out into the crowd and headed for the door, but not before he heard Sally-Anne say, in a slurred voice, "Sorry ... dunno what happened ... I just fell ... think someone put something in my drink, I feel funny ... and your face looks weird Flitty Flitwick ..."

Harry tried not to laugh, but said a silent thank you to Sally and made his way quickly to the Church of Merlin. Inside and to the left, the large hall was still playing host to the Music Society event. There were lots of students here and Harry couldn't spot Hermione amongst them.

But he did spot Michael Corner, who was standing with Anthony Goldstein and looking at Harry with a smug expression as he entered the hall. Harry hurried up to him.

"Hi. Have you seen Hermione?" Harry demanded

"I've seen some of her," Michael replied with a smirk. "And let me tell you, she tastes just as good as she looks."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked slightly thrown, his voice an unexpected growl as something ugly bloomed in his chest.

"It means that I've spent most of the afternoon getting to know her a bit better, you know ... under the mistletoe," Michael returned tauntingly. "I'm hoping to do a bit more of it, once she reapplies her lipstick. She's just gone to the bathroom to touch it up now. That's one lucky tube of lippy, if you ask me!"

"Well, I didn't," Harry scowled. Something hurt, deep inside. He wanted to massage his chest, but somehow he didn't think that would make the ache go away. He felt as if something had broken within him and he didn't know how it had happened or how to fix it.

Just then, Hermione herself appeared at his elbow. "Harry? What are you doing here? You're an hour early."

Harry turned to her with a hurt, angry sensation pounding all through him. "I've been thinking that this was a mistake. It's too dangerous. We need to go back. Right now."

Harry's insistence seemed so imperative that Hermione didn't think to question it. Harry frowned at her, noticing that her lips were bright pink, as if recently re-made-up. It turned his mood sour in an instant.

"O-okay," said Hermione, looking at Harry in questioning concern. "I'll grab Nev and we'll go."

"Yes, you do that," Harry scowled. "And as quick as possible."

"Alright, he's just over there," Hermione replied, still looking wary. Then she turned to Michael. "That thing we were discussing earlier, we'll carry it on at school, alright?"

"Yes we will," Michael smirked, throwing Harry an infuriating look.

"Just hurry up, Hermione," Harry cut in bitterly. "We shouldn't be here. I'll meet you outside ... and don't forget my cloak."

Then Harry stomped off to wait, where he was determined to feel very sorry for himself.